No Second Chances

by Don Bruns

  ‘I thought—’

  ‘A large, large mirror, one that covered the road, would reflect what appears as an approaching vehicle.’

  ‘Archer, that might be a brilliant deduction, but how does this change anything? We’re trying to find Joseph Brion.’

  ‘Whose father tried to rob Fox Glass. Whose father was apprehended by Johnny Leroy. Who also apprehended Joseph Washington, whose death is the reason we’re all over here in Algiers. And the owner, Matt Fox, refused to press charges.’

  ‘It’s crazy. I know I’m not the brightest Jew in the neighborhood, Q, so put it together for me, please.’

  ‘I don’t have the answer, but if we’re working on the idea that reflection had something to do with it, and we know Fox Glass is somehow involved, then it starts to make sense that Brion is going to end up at Fox. We can scour all of Algiers and never find him again. But my best guess is he’s headed to Fox Glass.’

  ‘OK. We’ve got patrol still looking for him. Every law-enforcement agent in Louisiana has his photo and a drawing of the tattoo. Even though you can’t tell me why this guy might visit the glass factory, let’s do a stakeout. I’m game if you are.’

  FORTY

  One hour to go. They would meet him in the lobby and there would be a major surprise. He pictured the look on their faces.

  Brion had called his two minions, and told them to fire up the crowd. As if those rowdy groups weren’t fired enough already. He’d provided De Shea and Grady with firebombs, smoke bombs and a couple cans of gasoline. Fuel for the second night riots. Starting at six thirty, the two young men were to lead the assault, then they were allowed to disappear. They were the catalyst. The shit would happen because of the momentum. That’s all he wanted. Get the cops, the Guard, State Troopers and Sheriff’s Department focusing on the main event. He would take care of the rest. Maybe he didn’t need to add fuel to the fire, but the more agitated the crowd became the more cover he had for his final act.

  On what became a weekly visit, he’d listened to the conversations between Pop and Joseph. In whispered voices, they discussed the death of the truck driver Nick Martin. When Brion finally figured out that the trio was somewhat responsible, he was fascinated and found a way to hear more. His bedroom in the big house was above the den where they talked. Once Mom started curtailing his eavesdropping, he went to bed early, listening to the echoing conversation through the laundry shoot that descended from the upstairs hallway. Although he couldn’t catch everything, he caught enough. And he figured out their magic trick of making a truck appear out of thin air. Smoke and mirrors. Today he would reveal his knowledge of the trick. It was a good thing he wasn’t a magician because a true magician never reveals his trick.

  In fifteen minutes the fireworks would begin. Half an hour later he would appear before his audience.

  She called him, but only got voicemail.

  ‘Quentin, I think I’ve figured out the reflection I saw on the windshield. As cryptic as it sounds, I believe the man was chasing himself. Please call me.’

  As she hung up, she knew he’d think she was even stranger than he already did, but she wasn’t going to explain her idea over voicemail. She wanted to talk to him personally. And maybe he’d already figured it out himself. She hoped he had.

  Solange considered getting on her motorbike and driving to Algiers. She was certain he was there, and she felt her presence might give him some protection. But, exactly what a young, single, black voodoo practitioner was going to really accomplish, she wasn’t sure. She hoped he would call back and they could have a meaningful conversation. She was becoming more focused on the crime and the criminal. Solange wanted to share that with the detective. And she was considering some more personal conversation. A chance to share their misfortunes. Some companionship would be welcome. More than welcome. Maybe over a drink or a meal. She couldn’t believe she was actually entertaining that thought. After she’d thrown cold water on the idea just the other day.

  ‘Consider this.’ They had parked across the street from Fox Glass, even though the parking lot could hold dozens of cars. This was a stakeout, not a proclamation that ‘the cops were in the house’. ‘No charges were ever filed against Brion or Washington.’

  ‘You’ve made that case. Something happened.’

  ‘Normally you’d think that the suspects had threatened the people leveling the charges. Maybe André Brion and Joseph Washington warned Fox that they would get even if he had them jailed.’

  ‘That’s a possibility,’ Levy said, sipping his Tout de Suite take-out coffee.

  ‘But, what if Fox threatened Washington and Brion—?’

  ‘With what?’ interrupted Levy. ‘Matt Fox didn’t even know these guys. Or at least I don’t think he did.’

  ‘Matt Fox had the power of life and death in his hands. He could press the charges and put those two away for years. But he didn’t. And just to play devil’s advocate, let’s assume that they didn’t have anything to hold against Fox. So why did he decide not to press charges? Why?’

  ‘Your favorite question, Q. Why?’

  ‘Here’s a scenario. Fox did have something on these two suspects besides this robbery.’

  ‘What?’ Levy sounded exasperated.

  ‘Nothing in the past. He didn’t have a clue who they were or why they targeted his company. Actually, let’s assume it didn’t really matter.’

  ‘So how did he have anything on them?’

  ‘What he had on them regarded their future. What they were to become.’

  Levy shook his head. ‘You are a headcase, Archer.’

  ‘If he refused to press charges not because they threatened him, then he must have promised them something in the future.’

  ‘Honest to God, Q …’

  ‘Stay with me, Josh. It’s the process of elimination. He says to them, “I could have you arrested. But, if you do me a favor, I’ll let you off the hook.”’

  ‘And what was that favor?’

  ‘“I’ve got a great idea how to hijack trucks. I want you to be the guys on the front line.”’

  ‘You’re saying,’ the look of disbelief was all over Levy’s face, ‘you’re saying that Matt Fox actually hired these two thieves as partners in crime.’

  ‘I’m suggesting that it is highly probable. I can come up with no other reason for him to not file charges.’

  ‘What about Johnny Leroy? How was he going to process the fact that after capturing these two guys, Fox was letting them go free? That should have pissed him off.’

  Looking out over the parking lot, Archer took a sharp breath. A Bentley convertible, top up, turned in off the street. Parking next to the entrance, the driver’s door opened and a hunched over Matt Fox slowly exited, cane in hand.

  ‘Wow. Surprise. Old man Fox is here. This must be a serious meeting,’ Archer said.

  ‘That’s Matt Fox?’

  ‘Senior. He works from home. His kid said he doesn’t ever show up here. Now, he appears on the most dangerous night in years?’

  In the distance, they could hear firearms being discharged, the pop-pop-pop of guns being fired. Then a roar from the crowd and an explosion. A smoky fire lit up the sky, and more gunfire.

  ‘This just gets more and more interesting,’ Archer said.

  Joseph Brion retrieved his backpack, and ducked behind a service station to pull on the carefully rolled trousers and jacket. Not much camouflage, but a rumpled attempt to cover his entrance for a few minutes. All he needed was those few minutes. Just a moment to make his case. Let them all know what was going on. The explanation, making them aware that he’d figured it all out, was crucial. After all, when someone is going to die, it would be nice to know why. A courtesy that they hadn’t offered his father. He was pretty sure that Johnny ‘Jack’ Leroy got the message, ever so briefly.

  His concern had become more personal. Minute by minute, he wondered how he would deal with the consequences. Would he be able to go out in a hail of gunfire if it ca
me to that? Would he have the courage to take his own life … or was that the coward’s way to escape? Could he seriously do that?

  The jacket and long pants were already too much. He was perspiring as he walked the sidewalk, then into the street when the pedestrian walkway ended. He’d transferred the Smith and Wesson to his waist, hidden by the sport coat. The noise three blocks away let him know that the commotion and confusion were paying off. By all accounts, he should have this moment to himself.

  FORTY-ONE

  Two cars were in the spacious parking lot, a Bentley and a late-model Corvette. It figured. High-end cars for people who knew how to manipulate the system. He’d taken a streetcar to see the homes they lived in, and the opulence was astounding. Business must have been very good for the past twenty-five years. Before that—

  Brion glanced at the car across the street, strangely out of place at this time of the afternoon, in this neighborhood. Opening the door with the etched fox on the glass, he walked in, nodding at the two men standing at the reception desk.

  ‘Mr Bardo?’ The younger man looked puzzled.

  ‘Is there an office where we can talk?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Matty Fox motioned for him to follow and the three of them walked down a hall to a spacious office with a glass desk, acrylic chairs and a brush-brown rug.

  The younger Fox sat down behind the desk, his father on one of the uncomfortable-looking chairs. Brion reached into his belt and pulled out the gun.

  ‘Gentlemen, please put your hands in front of you so I can see them at all times.’

  The old man squinted his eyes, staring at Brion.

  ‘So you got me here on the pretense of a multi-million-dollar project and all you want to do is rob the business? Jesus Christ, take what you want.’

  ‘No, Mr Fox, it’s more than that. You see, I’m André Brion’s son. And I understand you instructed Jack Leroy to kill my father.’

  The color evaporated from the old man’s face.

  ‘You’re going to kill me?’

  ‘Oh, no.’ Brion shook his head. ‘That isn’t what this is about at all. First of all I wanted to tell you that I’ve figured out the entire chain of events.’

  Matty Fox was shaking. His hands folded in front of him, his body quivering.

  ‘I don’t know what the hell you are talking about.’

  ‘Maybe you do,’ Brion said, ‘maybe you don’t. But here’s how I see it.’

  Matt Fox started to rise.

  ‘Yes, I will kill you if you make one more move, Mr Fox. I want you to sit still while I make my case. Do you understand? Just nod or I will blow you to kingdom come.’

  The elderly gentleman nodded.

  ‘Jack Leroy caught my father and Joseph Washington when they attempted a robbery at this establishment. Is that correct.’

  The old man nodded.

  ‘Very good. The two of them were attempting the theft of a shipment of gold. That should have been a felony, but you refused to press charges. I want you to tell me why.’

  The elder Fox shook his head.

  ‘Tell me,’ Brion shouted. Using his full force he struck the forehead of the man with the barrel of his gun. ‘Don’t make me do that again.’

  Reaching up and wiping blood from his head, the man lowered his gaze.

  ‘I wanted to hire them for a job.’

  ‘What job, Mr Fox?’

  ‘Hijacking trucks.’

  The younger Fox looked confused, his gaze switching from his father to Brion.

  ‘So, you used Joseph Washington and my father to steal loads of liquor and cigarettes.’

  ‘They made out very well, young man. It was a very lucrative business until—’

  ‘Until Nick Martin was killed.’

  Matty Fox studied his father.

  ‘Dad?’

  ‘Our business was going through some hard times. It was easy money and—’

  ‘Somebody died,’ Brion said. ‘You were using your giant mirror, and your three henchmen. They would park their semi up the road, roll out the giant mirror, run the trucks off the road and steal the merchandise. But somebody, Nick Martin, was killed. Right?’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘A confession.’

  ‘I’m an old man. I didn’t kill your father, so why don’t you—’

  ‘I want a confession. And I want it now.’

  ‘Yes, it happened, as you say.’

  ‘Your contribution?’

  ‘I placed detour signs on the road,’ he glanced at his son, tears now streaming down his cheeks, ‘and picked them up after the hijackings.’

  ‘You do yourself a disservice. It was your entire idea. You manufactured the mirror to run trucks off the road, to kill Nick Martin. You made the lion’s share of the money.’

  ‘And when Martin died, we stopped,’ Fox said.

  ‘Only because you’d made enough money to float the company.’

  ‘That’s not true. We—’

  ‘You then listened to the feedback. Everyone, except possibly you, was conflicted. You’d killed someone. Until then, it was only the trucking company’s insurance claims and you were making a lot of money. Now, someone was dead.’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘No buts, Mr Fox. Joseph Washington was scared to death. He felt terrible about the death, but my father, your business partner Andy Brion, he happened to mention to Joseph that they should come clean. My pop had a case of morality.’

  ‘Dad?’ Matty held his hands out. ‘Tell me this didn’t happen.’

  ‘Your father,’ Fox wiped his face, ‘Andy, became a pussy. Yes. He was going to destroy what had been a very lucrative venture. Because he had a change of heart, he wanted to put all of us in prison. Washington came to me and suggested we needed to silence your father.’

  Brion smiled. He was finally getting his answers.

  ‘And your head honcho, the leader of your nefarious ring of outlaws, was now a cop. He had his ear to the ground and heard serious rumblings about my father and his interest in confessing.’

  ‘Damn it, boy,’ Fox clenched his fists. ‘Joseph, Jack and I had long conversations about this. It didn’t have to happen. If your father had just decided to keep his mouth shut it all would have blown over.’

  ‘But you decided to kill Pop.’

  ‘It was the three of us, OK? And it happened that André and Jack came together at a junction after a robbery and—’

  Brion hit him again, across the nose with a vicious swing. Blood spurted from his face.

  ‘You’re going to kill my father?’ Matty was now crying, obviously surprised with all the information.

  ‘No.’

  ‘What is this all about then?’

  ‘Your father authorized the murder of my pop. There’s only one way to get even for that,’ Brion said. ‘Your father has to pay. He took something I loved, I’m taking something he loves.’ Aiming his pistol at Matty’s head, he pulled the trigger.

  FORTY-TWO

  ‘So the old man just walked in,’ Levy sipped his coffee. ‘I’m guessing his kid owns the Corvette.’

  ‘A high-level meeting,’ Archer nodded.

  ‘And who’s that?’ Levy pointed at the man walking up to the door.

  They both watched the man with the sport coat enter the business.

  ‘A worker? A client? It seems strange that on a curfew night Fox Glass would have a meeting.’

  ‘Life goes on, Q. If there’s business to be done, it’s got to be done. Here we are involved in murder, yet our main investigation deals with the after-effects of death. We’re working with people who are still alive. They still have business to attend to.’

  ‘The guy who walked in with the sport coat. You think that’s a client?’

  ‘You know these people better than I do. If they’re meeting at this hour, during this horrific time, it’s a very important meeting. They could get caught up in the riot, still they’re tending to business.’

&
nbsp; They sat back, studying the lot in dwindling light. The noise from the riot-torn streets was louder. The odor of gasoline was strong.

  ‘Josh, I’m not entirely comfortable with the guy who just walked into the building.’

  ‘Not comfortable?’

  ‘We’re looking for Joseph Brion. He could look like anyone. It’s not hard to disguise yourself.’

  ‘Let’s roll.’

  Levy opened the car door, his weapon drawn.

  Archer stepped from the car and they walked to the entrance.

  Archer pushed the door open. There was no one in the lobby. Quietly they made their way through the entrance.

  Muffled voices sounded from further back and they kept walking, pistols held at ready. The door to the meeting room was closed but they could make out some of the conversation.

  ‘There’s only one way to get even for that. Your father has to pay.’

  The explosion was loud, and Archer flung open the door, gun ready to fire at anyone who was ready to fire back. The man in the sport coat spun around and dropped his pistol to the floor. Hands up he went down on his knees.

  ‘Joseph Brion?’

  ‘Son of André Brion,’ he replied, grabbing the Smith and Wesson from where it lay. Aiming it at Archer’s head, he put his index finger in the trigger guard.

  Levy pulled the trigger on his Glock, the sound ricocheting around the room, and Brion collapsed, his bleeding body dead on the floor.

  FORTY-THREE

  ‘He lived. I read it in the paper.’

  ‘Matty Fox was lucky,’ Archer said. ‘The bullet missed his brain by a fraction of an inch.’

  ‘And you survived.’ She reached across the table and touched his hand.

  ‘Solange, thank you. I question how you come up with your ideas, but without them, without your insight—’

  ‘I even question what input I have, Quentin. So please, don’t apologize.’

  ‘Are you ready to order?’ The young lady stood there, pen and pad in hand.

  ‘No, give us a little more time.’

  They both reached for their glasses of wine, white and red.